


First Spark of True Love

by searchingwardrobes



Series: Journeying the Realms [5]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Beanstalk - Freeform, Childhood Friends, F/M, Future Fic, True Love, daddy killian, first spark of true love, mommy emma, overprotective killian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-01 23:05:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10202855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingwardrobes/pseuds/searchingwardrobes
Summary: The Jones family is in the Enchanted Forest for a visit when an unknown villain begins to threaten the kingdom. A sapling from Emma and Killian's first spark of true love at the top of the beanstalk may be the key to stopping the new threat. Emma and Killian aren't sure and don't want to waste precious time on a fool's errand. Their twelve year old daughter Elsa Jones believes it's there with all her heart, and she WILL climb the beanstalk and get the sapling. A dear friend she's had since she was six years old won't let her climb alone.The next in my series Journeying the Realms. Set in the universe of The Last Battle, but can be read alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> * I know there have been other fics about Emma and Killian's sapling being at the top of the beanstalk. I have given this (hopefully) a fresh twist by having their daughter travel to retrieve it instead.  
> * I know it's a stretch that Roland would only be four years older than Elsa, but if Once can play with the timeline willy-nilly, then so can I.  
> * I've had the initial concept for this story since I started this series, but didn't have it fleshed out until now. I didn't sleep at all last night, writing this story in my head, so I'm very excited to get it out and share it with all of you. It's a bit different for a Captain Swan story, so be kind!

              Few can track the figure moving stealthily through the Enchanted Forest. Her soft leather breeches, tunic of tan muslin, and muted green leather vest blend into the trees. Even at the age of twelve, she moves gracefully on silent feet which are clad in moccasins given to her by Tiger Lily. As the daughter of Emma Swan and Captain Hook, she can break in and out of places without anyone ever noticing her presence, can pick a pocket in seconds, can charm her way out of trouble, and on top of all that can handle both a cutlass and a gun with confidence. As the granddaughter of Prince Charming, she can fight with a broadsword just as well. And finally, as the granddaughter of Snow White, she can also slip through the woods without leaving a trail while also hearing even the smallest footfall sneak up behind her. And if she hears you, she can whip out an arrow and shoot it faster than you can blink.

              But Roland Locksley is the son of Robin Hood, and though his father died when he was only four, many things are in his blood. And what isn’t in his blood was taught by the band of his deceased father’s Merry Men who raised him. Elsa Jones would probably argue with him, but Roland can out shoot her with a bow. He is, after all, four years her senior. The word most adults use to describe Elsa Jones, even when Roland first met her when she was six and he was ten, is _precocious_. And he agrees. But time is still the best teacher, and Elsa hasn’t had as much of that as Roland has.

              Roland slides around the side of a large tree and stays low behind some gorseberry bushes as he follows Elsa from a safe distance. It’s no wonder he thinks of her as a little sister; she’s a year younger than his own sister Robin. He keeps his eyes trained on her jet black hair which is pulled back messily into a ponytail. Elsa, nine times out of ten, is messy. His sister Robin has started putting “stuff” in her hair and make up on her face, but Elsa still seems oblivious to that sort of thing. Robin has also started rolling her eyes whenever she visits the Enchanted Forest, constantly complaining about the lack of cell phone service. She keeps an earbud in her ear as if she’s completely put out at having to visit such a primitive place, only lifting her flashing green eyes to take selfies to post on social media when she gets back to “civilization.” If he sees his sister make that repulsive “fish face” one more time, he might just disown her. What would his father say if he could see her?

              Elsa, on the other hand, acts as if new life has been breathed into her lungs every time she visits. She’s fascinated by every corner of Roland’s precious forest. The first time he met her, she out climbed him to the top of his favorite tree, and ever since he’s called her “squirrel.” Somehow, over the years, it got shortened to “nut,” although he uses both. Unlike his sister, Elsa doesn’t use her magic when a sword or a crossbow would do, and their sparing sessions have always been fun. Of course, her over-confidence and boldness have gotten her into trouble on more than one occasion, and whenever she visits, he feels a responsibility to look out for his little squirrel. Hence why he’s following her now.

              Elsa suddenly freezes and then straightens. She crosses her arms and scowls in frustration. Without even turning around, she calls out, “Roland Locksley, there’s no point in hiding in the bushes. Just come out already.”

              She can hear him coming up behind her, so she whirls around and levels her best glare at him. He’s always acted the big brother, but ever since he turned sixteen, it’s been worse. He seems to think he’s an adult all of a sudden while she’s just a stupid kid. And it irks her to no end. He used to be way more fun.

              “I saw you sneak off this morning, Elsa. I knew full well where you were going,” he inclines his head over her shoulder.

              The two of them are standing on the crest of a hill. At the bottom is a beautiful sea of prairie grass, and looming in the middle of it, jutting up to the clouds, is the legendary beanstalk. The last of its kind. Elsa takes in the sight of it, her heart thrilling with both excitement and trepidation at the sight. It’s not that it’s taller than she imagined, it’s . . . more narrow, almost spindly. And it twists and snakes up into the sky. Yet she’s read her parents’ story enough times to know that it’s more solid than it appears. She can climb it easily. Completely ignoring Roland, she starts down the narrow path leading to the prairie below.

              Roland can’t help but smile as he admires the way she expertly navigates the criss-crossing footpath that hugs the side of the hill. She checks her footing, never letting so much as a pebble tumble over the narrow edge. He follows after her carefully.

              “Go back, Roland,” she tosses over her shoulder.

              “Not without you.”

              Elsa snorts, “If you thought you were talking me out of this, save it. I heard what Tink said. It’s possible the weapon we need is at the top of that beanstalk.”

              “And it’s possible there’s nothing there,” Roland retorts, “which is precisely why your parents didn’t waste the trip.”

              “No,” Elsa argues, “they thought they were needed to prepare for the fight. They didn’t think they could get away. I can. So I’m going.”

              By this time, Elsa has made it to the bottom of the hill and takes off at a short jog towards the beanstalk. She forces herself to slow down. As much as she wants to put distance between herself and Roland, she also needs to conserve her energy for the climb.

              “It’s too dangerous, Elsa.”

              She sighs as Roland catches up. He isn’t even out of breath, stupid boy. She is so tired of him saying everything is too dangerous. He never used to say that. He used to take her to the tallest tree, the highest cliff, the darkest parts of the forest. Sure, they’d gotten into lots of trouble, but it had been great fun, too! She remembers the first time they had sparred. She had bragged of course, that she could take him down, and he had risen to the challenge. At ten, it had never occurred to her that her father, grandfather, and big brother might be going easy on her. Roland proved that they had been. He had swiped at her legs with his sword and before she had even caught her breath, he was on top of her with the tip of his sword to her chin. For only about two seconds, of course. Two seconds was all it took for her father to haul Roland off her by the scrape of his neck, threatening to bury his hook in the fourteen year old boy’s neck. In the two years since, Roland had continued to give her no quarter whenever they spared. It had made her a stronger fighter.

              Roland huffs when he realizes Elsa is ignoring him, “Are you seeing this thing, Elsa? You can’t climb this! You’re just a kid!”

              Elsa’s blue eyes are flashing icy fire when she turns on him, “ _No one_ tells me I can’t do something.”

              Her ponytail almost slaps him in the face when she whirls back around, and Roland berates himself for using the word _can’t_. Her stubbornness is legendary. So he tries a different tactic, “Isn’t it enchanted? We don’t know where the cuffs are that your parents used the last time.”

              “Please,” Elsa scoffs with the eye roll she inherited from her mother. She flexes her hands, “it’s nothing against my magic.”

              Roland sends up a quick prayer that she’ll be unsuccessful, but he should have known better. The beanstalk shimmers as Elsa’s magic hits it, and the enchantment dissipates into nothing. Elsa grins and grasps the lowest vine, but before she can hoist herself up, Roland has grabbed her around the waist and flung her over his shoulder.

              “I didn’t want to have to do this, Elsa,” he grunts as he turns away from the beanstalk, “but you wouldn’t listen to reason.”

              “Let me go!” Elsa screams as she kicks and pounds his back with her fists, but she may as well be kicking the beanstalk behind her to make it fall for all the good it’s doing her. She can practically _feel_ Roland grinning. She is _not_ a baby, despite what he may think, so she refuses to act like one. She sags in his grip, and just as she feels his shoulders relax, she smirks and flicks her hand. Blue smoke envelops them both, and they’re right back at the foot of the beanstalk, Elsa on her own two feet. She laughs when Roland grasps at the air where she used to be flung over his shoulder.

              “Go home, Roland,” she says flippantly with another roll of her eyes as she hoists herself onto the beanstalk.

              Roland stands at the bottom with his arms crossed, scowling. Once she’s made it up a few feet, he sighs deeply and reaches out to grasp the beanstalk. “Then I’m coming with you.”

              Elsa knows there’s no point in arguing with him, so she bites her lip. She’s still climbing the beanstalk; she’s still going to find the sapling that has grown from the first spark of her parents’ true love. And she’s still going to use her magic to transform that sapling into the wand they need to defeat the unseen force threatening the Enchanted Forest. If Roland wants to tag along, so be it.

              They’re both silent for a while as they climb, until Roland asks a question that’s been plaguing them all, “So who do you think this new villain is?”

              Elsa tries to mask that she’s slightly out of breath from the climb as she answers, “I have no idea. But whoever it is has an army of orcs, and that isn’t good in _any_ story.” Elsa makes the mistake of glancing down at Roland when she answers. Her head spins for a moment when she sees how high up they are. She tilts her face up. Surely they must be nearing the top. But no. All she can see are thick clouds. Elsa takes a deep breath to steady her voice, so when she speaks, she sounds casual. Cocky, even. Call it a family trait. “Why are you still below me, anyway? I’ve never been _that_ much faster than you.”

              Roland smiles up at her, “What do you mean, nut? You’ve beat me to the top of many a tree.”

              “Not since your last growth spurt.”

              He debates with himself, then decides to tell her the truth. Even if it angers her. “I want to be below you. In case you lose your grip. It’s a long way down, squirrel.”

              “Please, I won’t be needing your help.”

              They fall silent again as they concentrate on climbing. When it happens, it’s so fast Elsa doesn’t even have time to cry out. One minute she’s grasping for the next vine, and the next minutes its disintegrating in her hand. Then she’s losing her balance and falling backwards, but before it’s fully sunk in that she’s falling, a strong arm has grasped her around the waist.

              “I’ve got you, nut,” Roland assures her.

He pulls her up and onto a vine so thick it makes a small ledge. Elsa is relieved that Roland’s body is between her and the open air. She buries her face in his chest, grasping his shirt tightly in both fists. She trembles all over as she imagines what could have happened; plummeting through the cold air, the ground rushing swiftly up to meet her. Tears prick at the corner of her eyes, and she’s glad Roland can’t read her thoughts. She’s wishing her Daddy were here right now, his hook holding fast and strong to the beanstalk while he grasps her tightly in his good arm. He would call her his little lass and assure her that he will never, ever let her fall.

Maybe she _is_ a baby after all.

“Okay, nut,” Roland interrupts her thoughts, “You’ve got to turn around, okay?”

She shakes her head against his chest, “I can’t.”

“You can, Elsa, you have to. But I’ve got you, okay?”

She takes a deep breath and turns her body to face the beanstalk. She keeps her eyes shut tight as she clings to the green vines snaking along its surface.

“Good job,” Roland whispers at her back, “now you can climb again.”

“No, Roland, I _can’t._ You were right, this was a stupid idea.”

“What?” Roland says incredulously, a teasing hint to his voice. “My little squirrel? Of course you can climb.”

Elsa bites her lip and takes two slow, steadying breaths. Once her arms stop shaking, she begins to pull herself up. With each pull of her arms and step of her feet, her confidence returns. As if to get her mind off the climb, Roland starts asking her questions.

“What did your parents talk about when they climbed this thing? It’s taking forever.”

Elsa chuckles, “My dad pretty much did all the talking.”

“Figures,” Roland laughs in response. If he’s referring to her father’s constant boastful chatter or her mother’s stand-offish demeanor, she isn’t sure. Both are true, so she doesn’t comment.

“They talked about Henry and about my mom being abandoned as a kid.”

“Wow, she told him that right at first?”

“No, dad guessed. Said mom was an open book to him.”

Roland is almost even with her now. Elsa isn’t sure if it’s because she’s climbing more slowly or because Roland has sped up to be nearer if she loses her footing again. He turns to look at her, “So why are you so sure your parents’ first spark of true love happened at the top of this thing?”

Elsa shrugs. “I’ve read my parents’ love story hundreds of times. And I’ve heard them talk about it hundreds more. My mom hurt her hand, and dad bandaged it for her. I think that’s where the spark happened. Tink agrees with me. Obviously.”

“I’m not doubting you, nut. But what’s the big deal? So he bandaged her hand.”

Elsa blushes slightly, “Well, for one, my mom kept the scarf he used. She still has it; I’ve seen it. And also, well . . . my dad used his teeth to tie the bandage.” They’re both silent for a beat and then Elsa continues, “I didn’t really get that part when I was little. But now . . . I mean I may only be twelve, but I’m not stupid.”

Roland just laughs, “I see. Yeah, I’d say a spark definitely happened.”

Elsa debates with herself whether to ask the next question. But Roland has been one of her best friends forever. Her _very_ best friend, probably. And, he’s four years older. “My dad also asked my mom if she’d ever been in love. She lied and said no. Have . . . have you ever been in love?” Roland is silent so long that Elsa just keeps talking, “I mean, Robin told me about that girl in the village. Are you in love with her?”

“You mean Bridget?” Roland asks. The question is rhetorical, of course, it’s not like there are a string of girls in his life. Bridget had caught his eye with her pretty brown eyes and auburn curls, but when he had stolen a kiss a week ago, he had been disappointed. It was a perfectly fine kiss, and she had kissed him back, it was just . . . “Bridget’s a pretty lass, and nice I suppose.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know,” Roland blows an errant dark curl out of his eyes in frustration. “It’s just . . . I’ve grown up my whole life hearing all these stories about epic true love. Know what I mean?”

Elsa snorts in agreement. “Are you kidding? My dad _died_ for my mom. More than once. She went to hell for him. Literally. That’s a lot to live up to.”

“Exactly!” Roland replies, glad he isn’t crazy. “So Bridget’s a sweet girl, but I guess I’m just not blown away by her.” He pauses, it suddenly dawning on him that he’s having this conversation with a twelve year old girl. The lack of air up here must be messing with his head. “Why are you asking, anyway?”

“Because,” Elsa grumbles, “Robin and Colette turned thirteen and suddenly I can’t relate to them. I’m not ready to go chasing after boys, but that’s all they ever talk about. I don’t want to waste an hour in front of the mirror fixing my hair and my makeup. And there’s all these stories about true love’s kiss. Well, I don’t know about that. I tried it, and I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

“Whoa, wait a second! Who’s been kissing you?” a surge of indignation rises up in Roland out of nowhere. What cur goes around kissing innocent, naïve twelve year old girls? Whoever he is, Roland will murder him, surely Hook will help . . .

“It was just Brandon,” Elsa grumbles.

“Tink’s son?”               “Yeah.”

Roland releases a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Good. Brandon’s just a twelve year old kid, too. “Why’d you kiss him? Do you like him?”

“No, yuck! I was just curious about kissing, and Brandon suggested we practice on each other,” Roland starts chuckling as Elsa continues, “so I figured why not. It was weird. And wet. And now Brandon is acting all dumb around me. Like always trying to show off and making stupid jokes, and . . . what’s so funny?”

“He _likes_ you Elsa. He didn’t want to practice kissing, he wanted to kiss _you_.”

“Seriously?” Elsa groans, sounding just like her mother. “Well, that’s just great. Can’t everyone just stay the same? Why do we all have to grow up?”

“Says the daughter of Captain Hook. Want me to steal you away to Neverland?”

“Ha, ha, very funny Rol-“ Elsa breaks off with a gasp, “We’re here!”

Elsa’s eyes grow large when she takes in the distance between the beanstalk and the stone ledge surrounding the top of it. Roland’s longer legs take in the leap easily, and Elsa’s brush during their climb has her accepting Roland’s outstretched arms without complaint.

“Whoa,” Roland breathes as he takes in the desolate landscape of the giant’s abandoned castle. “This place is . . . creepy.”

“Roland, look,” Elsa breathes.               He turns to see Elsa on her knees next to a tiny sapling, only about a foot tall. It pulses and glows with magic. Elsa beams up at him, and he smiles down at her.

“Help me,” she whispers as though the moment is almost too reverent for words, “I don’t want to break it. We need to dig it up, roots and all.”

The sapling has grown up through the broken stone of the courtyard, so Roland first helps Elsa pry them up with the tips of their daggers. Then they gently loosen the topsoil by dragging their daggers through it. Once the ground is soft enough, they use their fingers. Elsa reaches into the satchel at her hip and pulls out a leather pouch that she has filled with moist loam. He marvels at her resourcefulness and cleverness. Yes, definitely precocious. Or an old soul, as Snow calls her. Either way, Elsa isn’t just tough, she’s also smart. No wonder Brandon has a crush on her.

The climb down the beanstalk seems much easier, even though their arms are trembling with fatigue. Similar to the way running down hill is easier than running up. Elsa is also heady with the success of her mission. About halfway down, however, a sound pierces the air that makes her blood run cold. Two voices, screaming her name. Elsa locks gazes with Roland, her eyes wide. She recognizes those voices, and she can tell by the look on Roland’s face that so does he. No discussion is necessary; they both start climbing faster. Sure enough, soon Elsa sees a small head of dark hair, and a little farther down a small head sporting pigtails of golden curls. Her five year old siblings have followed her up the beanstalk.

Roland reaches Charlie first. He reaches down and wraps his arm around Charlie’s waist just as he had done earlier for Elsa. Charlie looks into Roland’s face with large, terrified eyes that brim with tears.

“Okay, Charlie,” Roland says gently, “I’ve got you. But you need to let go of that vine and wrap both your arms and legs around me. That’s the only way I can climb down and carry you at the same time.”

Charlie squeezes his light green eyes shut tightly and shakes his head, “Uh-uh. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, Charlie,” Roland tells him firmly, “trust me.”

“Trust him, Charlie,” Elsa calls from across the beanstalk, “he held onto me earlier. He won’t let you go, either.”

Charlie nods once, takes a deep breath, then lets go of the vine he’s clinging to. He climbs Roland’s torso like a little monkey and wraps his skinny arms around his neck and his skinny legs around Roland’s waist.

“I’ve got him!” Roland calls across to her, “Get Leia.”

Elsa eases down towards her sister. Leia looks up at her with tears streaming down her face. Her bright blue eyes are as big as saucers, and her arms are trembling.

“I can’t hold on, Elsa!” she cries. “I’m slipping!”

Elsa climbs down a little farther, but there’s a large gap between the vine she’s clinging to and the one her sister is hanging from. Elsa is forced to let go and reach for her sister with one arm. She glances over towards Roland.

“You can do this, nut!” he calls, winking at her to lighten the moment, “Use your magic to help you!”

Elsa nods and reaches as far as she can towards her little sister. She reaches out with her magic, but she mentally hits a wall. She frowns as she looks down at her sister’s frantic expression. Elsa remembers her lessons with Regina, how magic is about emotion. The emotion she’s mentally banging up against is fear. Elsa takes a deep breath, letting go of her fear and letting hope fill her. But once again, she hits that wall of fear.

“Elsa!” Leia screams as her fingers begin to slip. And that’s when it dawns on Elsa. It isn’t her fear she’s hitting, it’s Leia’s.

“Leia!” Elsa calls down to her, infusing her voice with calm. “You have to trust me. Let go of the vine you’re holding.”

Leia shakes her head in a panic, “I can’t!”

“Yes, you can! We’re sisters, Leia! That’s a magic all its own, remember?”

“Okay,” Leia whispers so quietly Elsa almost doesn’t hear her. Elsa reaches out with her magic, and she can feel it the second Leia lets go of the vine. She imagines Leia floating. Elsa knows that she, unlike Roland, won’t have the strength to carry her sister down the beanstalk. So instead, she floats her sister down through the clouds, down to the ground . . . and into their mother’s outstretched arms.

“Crap!” Elsa mutters.

“What?” Roland calls out to her.

“My parents,” is all Elsa has the time to mutter when she, Roland, and Charlie are all enveloped in white smoke. Both her and Roland’s feet give out beneath them when they touch the ground at the bottom of the beanstalk, and Emma scoops up Charlie before Roland’s knees can fully give way.

Elsa watches her mother rock Charlie back and forth with trembling hands. Her father falls to his knees beside them, holding them tight as best he can with his hooked arm as he holds Leia tight with his other one. Then Killian is showering his wife, son, and daughter with kisses as tears fill his eyes. Elsa bites her lip nervously as she watches them. She’s _so_ dead.

“Elsa!” her mother thunders once she gets to her feet, “How many times do I have to tell you to think before you do these things? Your brother and sister copy everything you do. I can’t begin to tell you how crazy this was! Charlie and Leia could have been killed!”

“I didn’t know they followed me!” Elsa shouts back.

“But what about you!” her father shouts. “It was dangerous, Elsa!” He turns with thunderous eyes towards Roland, who is so intimidated, he takes a step back. “And you? How dare you take my little girl up that beanstalk!”

“I tried to stop her, Hook, I swear!”

“He’s telling the truth, Daddy. He only followed me up there to keep me safe. And I’m glad he did. I almost fell.” Killian and Emma both turn wide eyes towards her. “He saved my life.”

Then her parents shock her as they both hold her close at the same time. Her father cradles her head with his hand, and she can feel her mother’s tears on her cheek.

“Elsa,” her mother mutters, “I don’t know whether to strangle you or kiss you.”

“How many heart attacks can you give an old man, little lass?” her father adds as he pulls back to cup her cheek. He plants a kiss on her forehead, and Elsa knows that their anger is forgotten. For now.

“And look what I found,” she adds, pulling her satchel open and showing them the contents of the leather pouch.

“Is that – “her mother begins.

“It was really there, “her father breathes.

Her parents lock gazes over the top of her satchel, their smiles tender and full of love. “Yes,” Elsa continues happily, “just where Tink thought it would be.”

Killian winks at Emma and gives her a saucy grin, “So I _did_ have an effect on you up there, huh, Swan?”

Emma rolls her eyes and smacks Killian in the chest, “Of course you had an effect on me. You tied the bandage with your _teeth_ , for gods’ sake!”

Killian arches an eyebrow and lowers his head in that flirty way he knows she loves, “Well, love, I only have the one hand you know.”

“Please, Killian Jones, you had ulterior motives and we both know it.”

Emma takes the satchel from her daughter with one hand and hauls her husband in for a kiss with the other. A couple of “ewwws” sound from behind them and Emma and Killian chuckle as they turn towards their five year olds.

“Well,” Killian quips, “sounds like they’re feeling better.”

Emma turns to Elsa and throws an arm around her while shouldering the satchel and its precious cargo, “Whadya say we go back to the castle and make ourselves a wand, kid?”

“Sounds great mom!”

“And _then_ we’ll talk about your punishment.”

“Mo – om,” Elsa groans, not that she’s surprised.

Roland laughs at Elsa and her mother, relief flooding through him that everything turned out all right in the end. He takes a step forward, but then hesitates and turns back to Elsa’s father.

“Ho – I mean Kil – I mean, Mr. Jones,” Roland shuffles his feet as the man levels a steely glare at him. “I want you to know I really did try and stop Elsa. But you know how stubborn she is. And of course I followed her up there because, well – I’d do anything to keep her safe. Even give my own life. I –“

“Are you telling me you would die for her?”

“Well, yeah, that’s what I mean, I . . .” Roland trails off as he takes in Hook’s gaze. He doesn’t know what he’s said wrong, but the man looks ready to murder him. “Um, because Elsa’s like a little sister to me.”

“A little sister, huh?”

“Yeah,” Roland says, thoroughly confused. He eyes the man’s hook and shuffles another itch or so away from him.

Kilian raises his hook to his chin and rubs it along his stubble, arching a brow at Roland. Little Charlie tugs on Roland’s hand.

“Come on, Roly,” the little boy giggles, “put me on your shoulders!”

Glad for the distraction, Roland bends and hoists the little boy up and over his head. Charlie kicks his heels as if he were on a horse and yells,”Gidyap!” Roland races ahead where Leia is skipping around Elsa, glad to put distance between himself and Captain Hook.

Emma hangs back from the children cocking her head curiously at her husband. “What’s up with you?” She follows the line of her husband’s scowl straight to Roland and rolls her eyes, “He meant well, Killian. And in the end, I’m glad he was there. He saved Elsa’s life. And Charlie’s.”

“He said he’d die for her, Emma.”

A laugh bubbles up out of Emma’s throat as she takes in her husband’s clenched jaw, “Get a grip, babe! Elsa’s only twelve. And Roland is like a big brother to her.”

“I know. She’s twelve. And he’s sixteen,” he says darkly, watching the young man with narrowed eyes. Elsa giggles and jumps on Roland’s back, wrapping her long, scrawny legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. “And what the bloody hell is _that_?”

“It’s Elsa jumping on Roland’s back. Just like she’s done since she was six.”

Killian scowls some more, “It was cuter when he was only ten.”

Emma rubs his shoulder and shakes her head, “Elsa isn’t into boys yet, Killian, I promise. She and I have talked. And Roland and Elsa are like brother and sister. They climb trees together, for heaven’s sake!”

“And beanstalks,” Killian mutters, “and remember the time he had her on her back when they were sword fighting?”

Emma rolls her eyes, “How could I forget? You almost severed the poor boy’s carotid artery!”

“He had my baby girl on the ground with a sword to her throat!”

“She was ten! They were sparing!”

“Laugh at me all you want, Swan, but it’s trouble, I tell you.”

Emma throws her arm around Killian’s waist and draws in close as they walk across the meadow, “I know you see similarities with our love story Killian, but Elsa will have one of her own. When she’s old enough. And she _isn’t._ Not yet. So relax and enjoy the rest of her girlhood, okay? She’s got a good head on her shoulders. All you have to do is look around at the other girls her age in Storybrooke to see that. We’re lucky. Seriously.”

Killian sighs, sagging a bit in Emma’s arms. “I guess you’re right.”

He smiles at his wife and glances back at the beanstalk stretching towards the heavens. “They just better not have talked about falling in love while they were climbing that thing.”

Emma just laughs. “I seriously doubt it, Jones.”

**Author's Note:**

> * This story went in a COMPLETELY different direction than anticipated. Originally, it was just going to be about sibling antics with all the Jones kids. But then Roland happened . . .  
> * I have plans for ending this series with two more stories, both centered on Elsa Jones. (But don't worry, there will be Captain Swan, too!) The only way I'll write more is if I get some prompts. I've asked, but no one seems to have any, and frankly, I'm all dried up! Having said that, I am super excited about where the last two stories will take us, so I'm actually happy about wrapping up this verse. Well, it's bittersweet I guess because I have loved this universe! Thank you all for enjoying it with me :)


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